I KNOW a duke; well, let him pass -- I may not call his grace an ass; Though if I did I'd do no wrong, Save to the asses and my song. The duke is neither wise nor good; He gambles, drinks, scorns womanhood, And at the age of twenty-four Was worn and battered as threescore. I know a waiter in Pall Mall Who works, and waits, and reasons well; Is gentle, courteous, and refined, And has a magnet in his mind. What is it makes his graceless grace So like a jockey out of place? What makes the waiter -- tell who can -- So very like a gentleman? Perhaps their mothers -- God is great! -- Perhaps 't is accident, or fate! Perhaps because -- hold not my pen -- We can breed horses but not men. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LET ME NOT HATE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE ROAD TO AVIGNON by AMY LOWELL A PROPER NEW BALLAD [ENTITLED THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL] by RICHARD CORBET GENTLEMEN-RANKERS by RUDYARD KIPLING PROMETHEUS UNBOUND: THE RED SEA by AESCHYLUS SUMMER SONG: 1 by GEORGE BARKER THE WASHER WOMAN'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE EXTEMPORE VERSES ON A TRIAL OF SKILL BETWEEN MSSRS. FIGG AND SUTTON by JOHN BYROM |